


I've Been Drowning For So Long, I've Grown Gills

by bottlemanjams



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Excuse the Writing, Levi-centric (Shingeki no Kyojin), M/M, Nightmares, this is an old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 02:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7081789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottlemanjams/pseuds/bottlemanjams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi's quiet morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Been Drowning For So Long, I've Grown Gills

It’s hard to breathe when you feel like you’re drowning. The endless chasm of water that you fall into every time you close your eyes; the feeling of waking up, gasping for air and choking on nothing. The realization that you’re sleeping alone in an empty room, passing cars’ beams filtering through the closed blinds.

 

 

This happens every morning; the panic, the struggle and then the dawning truth. It’s my greatest fear, because I can’t fight against something that isn’t living.

 

 

Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet come into contact with the cold floor below. With a slight shiver I reach for my covers, wrapping them around my shoulders and standing up; feeling like a walking-snoring sleeping bag. I waddle to the kitchen, allowing myself to flick on the heating just this once. Screw the bill. The kettle gets flicked on too, filling the quiet house with a low bubbling noise. I pull the sheets around me tighter.

 

 

It’s been only a few months in this apartment since I moved in; away from my parents. It was freedom at first, but then the bills started pouring in. My job has started to get harder to handle. To be honest, it’s definitely time to get a new one. Erwin has suggested the museum in the city and it’s only a bus ride away, but I’m not sure I’ll get it. The most I’ll be able to do is show people to the gift shop.

 

 

I look at the clock hanging above the door. It’s 6am and the sun has started to rise, but the sky is only turning a slightly lighter blue. Through the window, I can vaguely make out the silhouette of the willow tree down by the parking area. It’s dying. The branches are scattered all over car windows; leaves whipping in the wind and getting caught between screen wipers. But it’ll live again once winter is through. I hope so, anyway. I like that tree.

 

 

The kettle flicks off and I reach for a mug from the top cupboards along with a camomile tea bag from a former bolognaise jar, catching the tab between my index and middle finger. I begin to pour my drink, lazily watching the steam rise from the freshly boiled water. My hand seems to move on its own, hovering above the mug and allowing the hot air to condense against my palm. The water loudly gurgles in the pipes, letting me know that the heating is working. I carry the tea with one hand, opening the kitchen door and turning off the light with the other.

 

 

The leather sofa is cold when I sit down, prompting a shiver to run up my back. The tea is too hot right now to drink, so I suffer in freezing silence; knees bunched into my chest and blanket slipping from my shoulders. My gaze falls to a picture frame hanging from a loosely hammered nail, slightly crooked. I’m too tired to fix it, so I lean back and assess the picture.

 

 

We’re all smiling; Eren and Hanji holding drinks to the camera and the others pretending. I’m squished between the two, a jacket draped over my body and leaning into Eren’s side. The pub lights were crappy and we made the mistake of using flash, so everyone has red eyes and strangely tan skin. But nonetheless, Hanji insisted on hanging it. I didn’t argue, though. The picture is sweet.

 

 

I can finally feel the heat kicking in, so I rid myself of my blanket and instead place it under me, picking up my tea with care and taking a sip. It’s getting brighter, now. Warm, orange light engulfs the room; allowing dust spores to be seen in the air. The steam of my tea washes over my face and I involuntarily shudder; glasses steaming up at the bottom. I don’t wipe them, instead choosing to cross my legs and wriggle my toes against the surface of my blanket. Taking another sip, I go to reach for the TV remote but there’s a buzz at the door. With a sigh, I place my mug onto the coffee table with a soft thud and make my way to the entry, allowing them into the complex. I scratch my foot with my other foot, impatiently waiting for them to knock on the door. A few moments later, they do. Painfully aware of my cooling tea, I decide to try and keep this quick. I crack open the door and softly sigh. “Eren, it’s like 6 in the morning.”

 

 

He scratches his right bicep, looking worried. “I know. Can I come in?” I exhale through my nose, shaking my head lightly. I let myself smile. It’s small and gone in a second. “Take off your shoes.” He does exactly that, locking the door behind him. He follows me to the sofa, sitting on the blanket with me. Reaching for my tea, I speak. “What’s the reason for you coming around this early?” Eren smiles, leaning into the sofa more. The light from the window hits his face, outlining it in white and showing up all stray hairs. His pupils are small, but as soon as he turns to me, the outline is gone and they enlarge again. “I just wanted to see you.”

 

“You need to work on your timing.”

 

He laughs; chapped lips and saliva on his teeth more visible in the early morning light. “I’d say it’s perfect timing.”

 

“And why’s that?”

 

He gestures to my attire, smile still lingering. “Because I get to see you like this. Sloppy; tired. It’s homely.”

 

I allow my fingers to intertwine with his, the touch barely there. The smile he sports doesn't leave. “Do you want to see it more often?” I lean close to his face, feeling his breath on my skin. His breathing doesn’t falter, but rather he closes the distance. The kiss is fleeting; full of bad breath and tired movements. But it doesn’t matter, not when it’s him. Not when it’s his touch, his eyelashes brushing against my cheek, his nose pressing against mine. “Yes.” He replies, voice breathy and distant.

 

“Then move in with me.”

 

Eren nods into my neck, lips grazing my Adams apple and hands pressing into the bumps of my spine. “I love you, Levi.” I don’t need to reply, because he knows. He knows I love him. My fingers find his hair and we fall asleep like that, tea slowly cooling where it stands.

 

 

I am no longer drowning.


End file.
